Jigsawed Back Together
by Nirav
Summary: She thinks her life is sorted out now. Just goes to show that some things never do change. Just a drabble, not finished, didn't know where to go with it.


It had been almost ten years since she'd seen that face. She couldn't say it was ever forgotten, because as much as she sometimes wanted to, she could never forget that part of her life. Thirteen years old, looking nineteen, living the high life between seventh grade classes and lying to her mom.

_Out with the old, in with the new. Tearing, ripping, tossing jeans out the window. Change, change, be like her, be like them._

Even with a decade in aging added, she hardly looked any different. She dressed differently, to be certain—more subdued, quieter, less provocative—but her dark hair, still hanging to the middle of her back and framing her face, sharp hazel eyes, the strikingly beautiful face and somehow always athletic frame. At the sight of her, browsing through the music racks distractedly, Tracey felt her breath hitch in her throat, automatically ducking her head and letting her blonde locks fall to cover her face from view.

Evie. The girl that had changed her life at the tender age of thirteen. Memories flashed before Tracey's eyes, tongue piercings, tag teaming surfer boys, smoking pot.

_Cigarette smoke and Brooke's beers, stolen clothes, the sweet stench of marijuana floating around the room. Dancing and screaming under park sprinklers, teenage boys and teenage hormones, blood on the wrist and blood on the sleeve, falling falling faster faster, don't look down till you hit the ground._

Tracey was torn, peering through strands of layered blonde hair at the woman she barely knew anymore. Half of her was screaming to run over and embrace her, feel Evie's arms around her again, holding her up and kissing her forehead. The other half was keeping her feet firmly planted in the same spot, telling her to let the past stay in the past.

Absently she let her hands flip through the CDs in front of her, eyes staring at the artists but never seeing them. Evie. Evie, Evie, Evie, right there in front of her.

_You don't know how to kiss, I didn't even feel that, taste of beer and tobacco on her lips. Laughter and the freedom to not care._

Tracey didn't know how long she had been standing there, one hand hanging limply at her side, the other resting on the stack of CDs directly in front of her. She peeked over the racks again, doing a double take to realize she'd missed any chance she had, Evie had left.

"Excuse me," Someone mumbled distractedly, squeezing past her in the narrow aisles.

"Evie," Tracey whispered stupidly, one hand flying up to clap over her mouth, wishing she could bring the word back into her mouth. Evie's head snapped up, looking her in the face, eyes going wide and unblinking.

"Oh my God," she breathed, jumping back a step away from Tracey. "Oh my God! Tracey?" She brushed her hair out of her face automatically, staring at the blonde woman.

"H…hey," Tracey said weakly, trying to smile. "Been a while." It was a statement, not a question.

"Oh my God," Evie said for a third time, reaching out hesitantly like she wanted to touch Tracey, but drawing her hand back fearfully. "How long has it been?" she asked softly.

"Almost ten years," Tracey said back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

_Dizzy, dizzy, parkside carousel, she's a cutter, she's a liar, you're this, you're that, don't talk to me, who would want to live here anyways, aren't you adopting me, Mel?_

They stood there silently, awkwardly. Tracey felt her fingernails digging into her palms, fighting not to run away.

"You…want to get some coffee?" Evie asked, her voice soft, fearful, as if she was afraid Tracey would strangle her for asking.

Tracey felt a genuine almost-smile on her lips, looking up and into her eyes for the first time. "Yeah, I think we can do that."

Evie smiled, one of those soft smiles she never showed around anyone else in public, that Tracey had always childishly thought were reserved for her only, and nodded once, leading her out of the record store.

They sat in a deserted coffee shop. Mid morning on a Sunday, everyone was either asleep or at church. Tracey wondered absently why it was she couldn't sleep that morning.

"What happened to us, Tracey?" Evie asked, breaking the silence. She had her hands wrapped around the Styrofoam coffee cup, holding it tightly, her feet drawn up into the booth in front of her, knees under her chin.

Tracey stared down into her drink, watching a thin tendril of steam rise, unsure of how to answer. For the longest time, she'd wanted to blame Evie for everything gone wrong in her life. Failing the seventh grade, having to switch schools, struggling to get into college, the years of therapy and in and out of rehab. She'd spent years telling herself that Evie had caused it all.

"I think," she said carefully. "I think we were both too self destructive on our own, and after we came together, we just egged one another on until we were so far gone we couldn't come back."

"No," Evie said forcefully, shocking Tracey into looking up. "Tracey, no. It was my fault. I know that now. You were good kid before you started hanging out with me."

Tracey felt a bitter laugh escape her lips. "Evie, you didn't bring out anything that wasn't already there. I was already coming to pieces inside, I just didn't know it."

"No," Evie said again. "No, no, that's not it! I pulled you into everything, I tried to manipulate you, I betrayed you-"

"Evie!" Tracey interrupted. "Evie, we were thirteen. We were young and stupid and we wanted to be everything we weren't. Everyone makes mistakes, Evie, especially when they're young. We tried to take on the world, and the world came back to bite us in the ass. And," she said, smiling slightly at the memory. "I believe I was the one that went after _you_ in the first place."

_Cute shirt, nice belt, let's go shopping, call me after school. Evie wants to shop with me, do a little dance, phone is disconnected, trash on the floor and yelling brothers._

"Tracey," Evie said weakly, tears in her eyes. Tracey felt sick, remembering the only time she ever saw Evie cry, pressing herself against the fence behind her house, using it to stay standing, sobbing into it. Tracey leaving her to cry, running away, unable to handle it. "You're supposed to hate me."

"I did," she responded quietly. "I wanted to, I tried my hardest to, and I probably did for a little while. I wanted to blame you for everything. I wanted it to be someone else's fault besides mine, and you were the most obvious target. But like I said, you didn't bring out anything that wasn't already there. The person I was around you… God, I never felt more comfortable in my skin than when it was just you and me."

Trace took a deep breath, feeling what she wanted to say bubbling in her throat with nerves. "Evie," she began again, looking down and refusing to look at the other woman. "I need to tell you something, that I've wanted to say for ten years. I need to tell you that… that… I'm sorry," she finished weakly, taking a deep breath. "The day Mom and I took you back to Brooke's, I never should have left you there. I let you down, and I wasn't a friend to you, and I never should've done that, and I'm sorry."

The silence across the table finally got her to look up, holding her breath, to meet Evie's hazel eyes, wide and unblinking.

"Tracey," she breathed. "God, you don't need to apologize!"

"Yes, I do," Tracey said hurriedly. "I knew about your past, and I knew you were never happy living there, and I left you there."

Evie flinched visibly at Tracey's words about her past, causing a new wave of guilt to wash over the blonde. "Shit," she muttered. "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned that."

"No," Evie said carefully. "It's okay. I'm… almost okay with it by now."

"Almost?"

"Almost. I… tend to attract abusive people," Evie said softly, taking her turn to look down at the table. "First it was my uncle. Then Brooke's boyfriends. Then…" Her voice trailed off. Tracey, unaware and unthinking about it, automatically switched her seat over to next to her old friend, one arm around her shoulders. She could feel a slight tremble in the shorter woman's shoulders. "Then…" she said, her voice tight. "Then it was my fiancé. My _fiancé_." She laughed bitterly.

Tracey took a deep breath, then another, and another, at a loss for words. How much could one girl face in 23 short years?

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into Evie's dark hair, tightening her arm around her shoulders. She felt Evie shaking almost uncontrollably, crying onto Tracey's shoulder. Tracey marveled at how much they had both changed from who they used to be. Evie was no longer the flamboyant, enthusiastic, sly girl she had been, shaking her hips at all the right times to get what she wanted, dancing around and teasing every male in sight. And Tracey herself was little of the destructive, depressed teenager she used to be. She was about to graduate college, a psychology major. She had friends, had somehow salvaged her relationship with Noel, she had a life away from everything she had once been.

Yet here she was, still finding herself emotionally attached to Evie, wanting desperately for the other woman to stay in her life this time.

_Break, break, he's a cokehead, brother called you a slut, don't talk to me, I hate you Mom. Evie, Evie, everywhere, I love you, you're my girl, aren't you going to adopt me, Mel?_

Tracey didn't know how long it had been before they started talking again. They spoke of mundane things, catching up. Tracey told her about college and her upcoming graduation, how she was going to try and get her doctorate someday. Evie spoke of dropping out of high school, but getting her GED at fifteen, working three jobs at a time, losing Brooke to suicide at eighteen, community college and how she apparently had a hand for business, running three clothing stores now. The man she thought she'd fallen in love with, was engaged to, was pregnant with his child, until he beat her so hard she lost the baby and three weeks of memory.

"How's your mom?" Evie asked suddenly, during a lull in the conversation. Tracey smiled.

"Good," she said. "She's doing good. She went to night school, got her GED and a business degree. She owns a salon now, she's bringing in more money now, and she doesn't have to support me or Mason anymore, so she's living pretty good now."

"That's great," Evie said, a faraway look in her eyes. "I miss Brooke. After…everything with us, she was so good to me. She started caring, it seemed. For five years, I had a mom," she said quietly.

Tracey stroked her hair, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'm so sorry," she said into Evie's dark hair, for what felt like the twentieth time that day. They were still curled up on the same side of the booth, leaning against one another like they had so many years ago.

"Me too," Evie whispered. She stared at her empty coffee cup, one tear running down her cheek. Neither said anything for the longest time.

"Your brother thought we were sleeping together, did you know that?" Evie asked quite suddenly, her familiar smirk in place.

Tracey sat bolt upright, staring at the woman next to her. "_What_?" she practically shrieked. "He said _what_?"

Evie laughed, that full bodied, infectious laugh Tracey had missed for ten years. "He did," she confirmed. "Cornered me one night when I came out of your room and asked if I was sleeping with his sister."

"Oh my God," Tracey said. "No he _didn't_. He _did_?"

Evie nodded, giggling. "Yep.

"Oh my God," Tracey moaned, burying her head in her hands.

"Well, we were pretty close," Evie said, shaking her hair out of her eyes. "And we _did_ make out."

"Once!" Tracey said. "Only once! And that was hardly making out, it was one kiss!" She jumped up out of the booth, suddenly full of energy at the shocking news Evie had revealed to her. "Ohhh, I am so going to murder him. He is _so _dead!"

Evie laughed again, standing up next to her. She followed Tracey out of the coffee shop, smiling when Tracey almost unconsciously grabbed her hand and held on tight, as she was afraid Evie would get stolen from her if she didn't. Tracey continued to mutter about her brother, much to Evie's amusement.

Tracey stopped suddenly, turning to look at Evie with wide eyes, before darting into an alleyway and dragging her with her.

"What the-"

"Have you been telling people we made out?" Tracey hissed, eyes wide. Evie blinked in confusion.

"Um, no?"

"You promise?"

Evie giggled. "What if I did? Was kissing me really so embarrassing you didn't want anyone to know about it?"

Tracey stared at her, mouth open, forgetting what she was going to say. "Uh," she spluttered. "I…"

Evie stepped closer to her, doing that thing where she looked up through her eyelashes, looking so much like she did at thirteen Tracey found herself shaking.

"I wasn't that bad of a kisser, was I?" Evie asked quietly, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I… don't remember," Tracey said, at a loss, unable to move.


End file.
